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27 Apr 2013

A Chinese train journey: Beijing - Pingyao

In recent years, China has pumped a
staggering amount of money into its railways (the controversial QuingHai–Tibet
line alone cost $5 billion).
Unfortunately precious little of it seems to have found its way into the class carriages. In the absence of
any other choice, we bought the cheapest “hard seat” tickets for the twelve
hour overnight journey to Pingyao. We can certainly confirm that they are not called hard seats for nothing!

Trying to find our seats in the already
packed 150 seat carriage was a challenge, made none the easier by the fact that
they were already occupied. After some
persistent ticket pointing and gesturing, we managed to move the offenders on. Then came the next problem of actually
getting into our seats – the rows of seats faced one another, and left only
enough room for the passengers to sit with interlocking knees. In a situation like this, apart from the
obvious discomfort of sitting upright for twelve hours, one’s fate is largely
decided by the person sitting opposite.
Judging by the panel of characters facing us, we were in for a long
night.

Opposite John, an old man was
propped lifelessly between two larger men, his slack jaw hanging open. Every few moments a pained look would come over
his face and he would come to life just long enough to cough violently. Unfortunately, after 5,000 years of
continuous civilization, the Chinese have still not learnt to put their hands
over their mouths when coughing or sneezing.
Spittle flew from his lips. On
finally waking and hoiking his throat, he seemed visibly troubled at not being
able to spit – a “No Spitting” sign was displayed at each end of the
carriage. He looked undecided whether to
spit anyway, but then thought better of it and swallowed reluctantly.

The bright fluorescent lighting is
never dimed in 3rd class and at about midnight the trolley dolly
from the canteen did her first run, peddling an assortment of wares ranging
from pot noodles (the most popular choice) to fresh fruit and soft drinks. Nor does the noise ever diminish – loud card
games, raucous conversations and snoring were all under way. At 1am a baby started to scream and only then
did everyone else stop what they were doing - some people stood up in their
seats to watch, and for some reason the baby became the centre of
attention. As its cries abated, the rest
of the carriage gradually came back to life.
At this point the old man seized his opportunity and went to vent his
hoiking on the only sink on the carriage.

Unable to sleep at all, John
continued his observations late into the night.
What began to dawn on him, was just how unbelievably tolerant these
people are of one another. Food is
shared, new acquaintances are made, and, despite the crammed conditions, tempers
never flared. By 4am limbs dangled
everywhere, hands rested on other people’s faces and heads lolled on the next
persons shoulder. Ironically, in the
stifling pre-dawn of this sardine tin on wheels, the Chinese seemed to be at
their most serene. Back in England the
emergency cord would have been pulled long ago.

As the first rays of sunlight
slanted across the carriage, bodies slowly began to untangle. By this point only one final but unavoidable
obstacle lay between us and Pingyao – a visit to the toilet. It is a well-known fact that a national
past-time of the Chinese is the desecration of bathrooms and there is no finer
example of this than a 3rd class overnight carriage. Shared by 150 people, the two squat toilets
had taken on a unique patina during the night, the description on which is best
left to the imagination. Needless to say
it was a relief when the final station slid into view – Pingyao.